


laser tag: kryozgaming and smii7y

by sinah



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Laser Tag, M/M, i don't actually ship this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 00:53:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13283469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinah/pseuds/sinah
Summary: smitty will do anything to win a game of laser tag.i don't actually ship this, i just happened to use their two personas for the prompt that i liked at the moment. it's short. i'm aware. enjoy the moment.prompt credits: halleydoedog on tumblr. "take me laser tagging and then push me into a corner and kiss me. then shoot me and walk away."





	laser tag: kryozgaming and smii7y

John ducked behind cover, cursing under his breath. His nails glowed fluorescent white under the backlights of the arena, the glow of the vest uncomfortably strapped over his chest pulsating softly. Shouts and sounds of laughter echoed around him, shot through with the electronic sound of laser guns firing in every direction. He watched someone fly past him, her ponytail trailing behind her. The dim lighting cast a faint blue sheen over her black hair. He readjusted his grip on the plastic gun in his hands. Before he could lift it, however, a red line sprinted through the air and tagged her shoulder. She was so close he could hear the buzz as her equipment deactivated for a few seconds, and she stumbled, swearing giddily with a wild grin on her face. He smiled, glancing down at the hit counter on his gun. He knew the amount was unreasonably high; the only possibility of failure came from one other person.

 

“Drop the gun.”

 

The voice was right behind his ear, breathy and hot against his skin. He flinched, his pulse quickening, and was about to whirl around until he felt the barrel of a laser gun settling between his shoulder blades.

 

“Drop it, motherfucker,” the voice said, a hint of laughter behind his murmurs. John obliged, letting the gun dangle from the glowing cord attaching it to the vest. It bumped uncomfortably above his knee, and he slowly raised his hands, holding back laughter.

 

“You’re a piece of shit, Smitty,” he said. Smitty laughed behind him, and butterflies flew up into his throat. The gun pressed into his shoulders, and John took a step forward, then another step. Smitty had forced him into the corner of the arena, and although he considered yelling for help, he knew Smitty would shoot him the second he made a move.

 

“Turn around,” Smitty said. John obliged, turning around slowly. Smitty's white shirt glowed furiously under the blacklights, and his dark hair was tousled and sticking up in the back. He smirked at john, his eyes narrowed, telling him without words _you’re mine now_. As John observed the hungry look in his face, the butterflies in his throat spread all throughout his chest. A feeling of warmth burned behind his eyes.

 

Smitty stepped forward, and John stepped back, feeling padded walls pressing against his spine. Smitty’s vest glowed red, illuminating his face and slipping between the spikes of his hair. His gun still pointed at john, he stepped forward again.

 

“Fuck you,” John fired. Smitty took another step, and now John was glad that the light was so dim, hiding the blush spreading through his cheeks. Smitty had closed the distance between them significantly, smelling of sweat and way too expensive cologne. His brown eyes were tinted red from the glow of his gun. John’s heart was racing now, and he couldn’t tell if he was afraid or excited.

 

Smitty let his gun drop and pushed his hand into John’s chest, right where the gun had been pointed a second before. John felt himself pressed against between the two walls, but the feeling was washed out by Smitty’s movements. The younger man tilted John’s head down with his other hand ever so slightly, his grip rough but his movements gentle. Sweat dripped down John’s forehead, and he found his breath catching in his throat. Smitty let go of John’s chin and wrapped his hand behind his neck, pulling him in. He kissed him hard, and John brought his hands up to rest on Smitty's chest, curling his hands around the laser tag vest. John closed his eyes, unable to push him away. Somewhere in the back of his mind, something urged him to play the game, but it was quickly drowned out by the feeling of Smitty's hands on him.

 

When Smitty drew away, John was left gasping for air, nervous sweat soaking the back of his shirt. Smitty’s face was so close John could taste the tang of his own sweat. Smitty’s grin widened, and suddenly John felt a buzz in his vest. He looked down just in time to see the lights go out and to see the barrel of a gun withdraw. Smitty walked backwards, hefting his weapon, an evil look in his eyes.

 

“You bastard,” John managed to say, still unable to peel himself off of the wall. Smitty just shrugged, a huge smile spread over his face. before John had the chance to recover, he felt his vest vibrate and saw Smitty’s flash in synchrony with his own. A chorus of disappointed “aww’s” echoed through the room as a pre-recorded voice announced that the game was over.

 

The scoreboard lit up on the wall.

 

John glanced up at it, and watched Smitty’s retreating back with disbelief.

 

The name printed next to first place wasn’t his own.

 


End file.
